


Out For A Smoke

by Feathers



Category: Big Fat Quiz of the Year RPF, British Comedy RPF
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-28
Updated: 2013-12-28
Packaged: 2018-01-06 11:26:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1106258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Feathers/pseuds/Feathers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Guess you’re just not that good of a kisser.” Jonathan arched and eyebrow, but this time Jack managed to hold his own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Out For A Smoke

**Author's Note:**

> Shut up, don’t judge me, I already hate myself enough for it. I also blame [this](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pedWSC9WXaA&t=1h27m00s) in case you wanted a source for this damn monstrosity.

To the audience it may have been a joke, but Jonathan and Jack really had gone to have a cigarette afterwards. It was more so a small chat than anything else really. They hadn’t seen each other for a while, and while it was really only Jack having a cigarette, Jonathan stuck around, tossing around the cork from the champagne bottle they had shared earlier.

Jack made a note that should they be on the same team in the future, he would bring red wine instead. Perhaps in a picnic basket filled with Cosco. 

The champagne, while low on alcohol content, still warmed Jack a bit during the harsh English winter outside of the studio. That, and the ember of the cigarette in his hand, and the hearty laughter that came in response to Jonathan patting himself on the back for his “family friendly” pun monstrosities he had made earlier. Of course, it didn’t help that he had incidentally left his coat inside, in a rush to just get some fresh air. Pun monstrosities. Punstrosities. Jack made sure to never tell that one to Jonathan. 

“And you, ya smarmy prick, snugglin’ up on my shoulder every time Noel or Richard opens their mouth because you laugh so much ya can’t breathe,” Jonathan teased, flapping a loose glove at Jack as he continued to try and get his frozen fingers in it. 

Jack tried not to look flustered at the comment, having had been caught up in the moment. He was just- 

“That kinda laugher, I guess,” Jonathan said, lopsided smile on his face. “It would be adorable if it weren’t for your mug messin’ it up.” 

“Well this mug is what gets me interviews next to A-lister celebrities,” Jack shot back with a grin. Jonathan retorted with a simple flap in the face of his glove, as to distract from his own chuckle. 

“It seems you’ve forgotten just whose show you’ve been on,” Jonathan said with a huff, straightening his posture with an arched eyebrow. There was that glimmer of humour in his eyes that Jack was always fond of. 

Jack gave Jonathan his charming smile before taking another pull of his cigarette. He tried not to think of that one particular interview in March. He had called Jonathan his “comedic father figure”, or something like it, out of a blur of embarrassment. 

It was true that Jack somewhat thought of Jonathan as a mentor, but after he thought about it, “father” might not have been the best metaphor. Fathers don’t get you flustered and blushing every chance they get. At least, not your own father, heaven forbid. 

No, Jonathan was something akin to a university professor or something to Jack. The kind that you always stick around with after class for a bit of a chat, or see them during office hours, or maybe at the pub by a coincidence if you’re lucky, and then share a pint or two. It was a bit of a long winded analogy that was a tad more complicated to be explained, but it summarized their relationship better. 

Jonathan was eyeing Jack up and down for a moment. Perhaps because he wasn’t used to the younger man being so quiet, but then again, Jack liked to think he was using the air to keep his lungs warm. 

“Gimme that,” Jonathan demanded after hardly a moment, snatching the cigarette out of Jack’s hand and drawing it to his own mouth. 

“I thought you’d quit,” Jack said, ignoring the brief warmth that lingered on his hand from the glimpse of skin against his own. 

Jack had probably forgotten to mention that he was normally the type to want to shag his professors – male or female - but then again, who wasn’t. He distracted himself by rubbing his hands together before shoving them under his arms. 

“Yeah, well, I quit that,” Jonathan replied, watching the smoke leave his lips and wonder off into the air. “’Least, now and then, anyways.” He took another quick drag before popping it back between Jack’s lips. The gesture surprised him, having not yet experienced Jonathan this close without a camera somewhere, only to be further startled when the older man began rubbing his hands against Jack’s upper arms. 

“You’re shivering,” the comedian tutted. Jack hadn’t really noticed, but enjoyed the friction against his clothed arms. The younger popped a hand out and plucked the cigarette from his lips, puffing the smoke out of the side of his lips as to not get it in Jonathan’s face. The man looked back at him, the hint of a smile still there, and – what was it the internet always joked? ‘The bluest blues to ever blue.’ Right. Poetry in and of itself. Jack felt he could do better improvised literature (not that he would ever try). 

“Hang on, ya tit,” Jonathan sighed, smirk only becoming more charming. This close of proximity to the man was perhaps not the best for Jack’s health, he noted, trying not to stare. The other man pulled off his scarf and looped it around Jack’s neck, tugging him just maybe two inches closer, but enough to make his heart kind of punch him in the chest. Hopefully the windburn added enough colour to Jack’s cheeks as to hide any and all flushing of the skin as Jonathan tied a neat knot in the scarf. 

Afterward, Jonathan stepped back, if only a step. Jack couldn’t tell if it was the scarf or the man stood in front of him that smelled better and Christ had Jack felt like he reverted back to his college years. 

“Better?” the man asked, turning up his collar. 

“Cheers,” Jack said. He pulled out his pack. Given the half-lidded look Jonathan was giving him, Jack popped two out, handing one to the older man. 

Jack lit his own, first, with the butt of his previously smoked cigarette, and the cherry stuck to the new one, rather annoyingly. 

“Oh, come on,” Jonathan nagged, seeming to coax Jack to move faster by rubbing his arms again. Really, it just distracted him further from fishing his lighter out of his front pocket, as he tried to restrain himself from leaning into the warmth. Not to mention flicking the lighter was a bit harder to manage. 

Jonathan flicked the younger man on the nose with a chuckle before wrapping his hands around Jack’s to help. One hand covered in soft leather whilst the other bare, but warm, Jack noted. Perhaps a note to be used in later fant- oh fuck all it was like he was in college again. “Shivering so bad you can’t get a light,” the man said, weaving his fingers around to thumb the wheel. 

“Or maybe because someone was shaking me about like a ragdoll,” Jack rebutted, muffled by his cigarette still between his lips. The other man took a moment to lean in closer to dip the tip of his own cigarette in the flame. Jack just kind of stared between the man, their hands, and those fuckin’ blue eyes looking at him through his eyelashes like this was some damn telenovela. 

It was a moment before Jonathan released his hands. Jack Whitehall, like an idiot, just stared for a moment, staring at the other man in more of a confused manner than anything else. 

That was, until the metal heated enough to burn his thumb, making Jack flinch and hiss and pull his hand away, wagging it in the air. Jack really was a tit. 

Jonathan giggled a bit, grabbing up Jack’s injured hand and bringing it up to his face for inspection. Jack was mildly annoyed, but let it be, squinting at the other man as if the burn were his fault. “Well, it’s not bad, but it wouldn’t do you any good to be caught with your thumb up your arse any time soon,” Jonathan chuckled. Jack made a face and laughed back sarcastically. Jack attempted to reclaim his hand, but Jonathan held fast, licking his lips before planting a small, moist kiss on the tip of Jack’s thumb. 

The gesture was weird, but cute, but still a little weird. “Saliva’s good for burns,” Jonathan said as an off comment, as if it were common knowledge (and it probably was). “Loads of small injuries as well. Like paper cuts,” the man continued before releasing Jack’s hand. “Guess it’s where they got that ‘kiss it better’ phrase, eh?” Jonathan was smiling again, whilst the younger man just kind of managed to glare back, nursing his hand under his arm. 

“Still hurts,” Jack pouted in jest. “Guess you’re just not that good of a kisser.” Jonathan arched and eyebrow, but this time Jack managed to hold his own. 

“I might have a speech impediment, but I know how to work my tongue,” Jonathan corrected with a wry smile. This time, Jack’s heart – or maybe it was his cock – did its damned best to react, but he batted them both back down. 

Jack was saved from trying to pick up his dignity in order to continue banter by a car pulling up to the alley. The driver rolled down the window and nodded his head in a gesture for one of them to get in. 

“That’s my ride,” Jonathan piped up, tossing the barely smoked cigarette to the ground before stomping it out. He looked back up to Jack with that ever-present grin. “What’s it they called it? Eskimo kisses?” Jack just had enough time to scrunch his eyebrows in confusion before Jonathan was in his face in an instant. 

Jack closed his eyes to brace for impact but was only met with a finger under his chin and a peck on the tip of his nose before the heat was gone quicker than it had arrived. The younger man opened his eyes just soon enough to see that stupid grin making its way to the car. 

When Jonathan was about half way, Jack’s voice finally caught up with him to call out “That’s not how you do it.” 

Jonathan turned back to him, but continued to retreat to his car. “Guess you’ll have to teach me later.” 

Jack just kind of stood, frozen to his spot, as he watched the man walk around and slide into his car with nothing else but a wave. 

' _That smooth mother fucker,_ ’ Jack thought, with a frustrated drag of his cigarette, slumping against the wall. 

Just looking down to stomp out his own cigarette did Jack realize he still had Jonathan’s scarf.

**Author's Note:**

> I must say, regretting something whilst _currently_ writing it was new for me.


End file.
